Leah once told me—I had to be tested for cancer—and Leah said, “How much is it?” I said, “It’s $1,500.”
$1,500 is a pair of shoes for her. Or boots, that’s for $1,500.
And being that my ex‐wife was robbing every penny from the company, we were like bad off.
So I turned around and I said, “Leah could you do this for me? You know, it is serious, biopsy for cancer.”
She says: “Yeah, yeah, I’ll take care of it. What’s the doctor’s number, what’s his name?”
I gave her everything. She said “I’m going to just put it on my credit card.” I says, “fine.”
Leah never did it. I says, “Why didn’t you do it?” “Well I don’t want them to have my credit card number.” I said, “Why don’t you send him a money order, overnight?” She says, “I didn’t think of that.”
I says, “You are talking about my life here for $1,500.” So she says, “What can I do,” blablablabla. I said “alright, drop it, forget it.”
